None Dare Call it Treason
by The Weaver Atropos
Summary: The evolution of Ken and Kase's relationship from their first meeting to their last confrontation.  A frame story that follows parallel story-lines of Ken/Kase and RanKen.


**None Dare Call it Treason  
><strong>_The Weaver Atropos  
><em>

Date: August 6, 2008  
>Comments: Dug it up from the depths of my computer. I've been wanting to work on this one for awhile. This story will explore Ken and Kase's evolving relationship - from their first meeting, to their last confrontation. Eventual RanKen.<p>

I've experimented a little with the format (frame-stories, etc) and ended up with a six Act piece (modelled after a classic tragedy?). This is the prelude.

* * *

><p><strong>ACT ONE<strong>  
><strong>PRELUDE:<strong>

_Treason doth never prosper: what's the reason?  
><em>_Why, if it prosper, none dare call it treason.  
><em>_-Sir John Harrington_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Outside of Tokyo, at Crosshope Orphanage.<br>**Fourteen_

Ken blinked curiously into a pair of amused hazel eyes. _Really?_ Amamiya had said so?

The tall, raven-haired man before him chuckled richly, pleased, before ruffling at his hair. "I told her I was taking you to meet the coach. She knows how much you like soccer, Ken."

And he cracked a smile of his own then, brown eyes crinkling at the edges, squinting at the sunlight, before turning back on his heel and smiling cheekily at the round nun watching him from the playground. She was surrounded by a myriad of little bodies, all tugging eagerly at her for attention, and she was patting them fondly, dropping to her knee to better take care of her charges.

He had known Amamiya all his life. And, though she always smacked him on the head when he called her that, Ken chanced a lop-sided smile as he waved to her from beside Kase. "Bye bye, Ama-chan!"

He could see the way her lips twisted into a sour expression even from where he stood, and he laughed low under his breath, raising his eyes to meet Kase's own, affably bumping against the man's shoulder.

It was getting to be a little weird, he had to admit, the way Kase had begun shooting up like a weed, his shoulders—always broad and expansive—suddenly all the wider, his arms rippling with muscles seemingly overnight. His own development had been stunted, and he was still the scrawny kid he'd always been—mussy chocolate hair always a _little_ too long, clothes always fitting him a _little_ too big. Kase blamed it on how little he ate.

But he wasn't particular about that. Sometimes, there wasn't enough food to go around, and Ken was keen on having the younger ones stuff their faces sooner than he did.

Still, Kase's growth spurt had left them at something of a divide.

"Ken?"

"Hmm?"

He blinked up at the man, frowning a little as he felt the very beginnings of a blush lick at his cheeks, and smiled stiffly. That was another thing; Kase's seeming cannonball into puberty had produced in him a surge of sensations he hadn't ever been exposed to at all. Mortification aside, he was well aware of Kase's curiosity at his reaction, visible in the way his brows gathered and his mouth pulled into a petulant little pout.

"You okay?" The concern was coupled by a dismissive touch at his shoulder—encompassing—so that he could just barely feel the heat of Kase's arm about his back. He nodded numbly, feeling his ears burn, and tried to fight the urge to lean back into the embrace. Kase was affectionate by nature—almost as much as he was—and he had never been too clear on boundaries.

Actually, truth be told, Ken supposed they were the two worst people when it came to boundaries. Ken had always been ridiculously tactile—groping at anything and everything since childhood—and Kase…Kase just lacked the general ability to read people and their discomfort. He was aware of Ken's own disregard for physical boundaries, and supposed—generally correctly—that the youth wasn't opposed to contact.

And it had worked out that way fine, for a while.

Since they'd been kids, really.

But recently, Ken had realized he'd get all hot and bothered over Kase's careless touches, enough that he found himself looking paranoically about himself in the showers, quick to get _that_ ordeal out of the way. Even now, he was hesitant to Kase's next proposition for a wrestling match, though those were usually spontaneous, and he wasn't quite sure what he'd do if that were the case.

"You know," Kase bumped at his shoulder with a devious sort of smirk, "…Kimiko's gonna be there, today." And his expression was calculating—curious, but observant…as though he were pushing for some sort of answer—some sort of reaction he would inadvertedly make.

Ken shrugged, chocolate bangs brushing at the tip of his nose with the motion, and looked away. That was the other reason he was feeling uncertain.

Kase had discovered girls.

Not that it was much of a surprise, since the youth'd always been sort of…restless, but suddenly hearing all those stories about Kimiko and Mae, and—oh _god_—_Yumi_, who _insisted_ on being called Fujimoto-san, however presumptive _that_ was…it hurt. And not only because Kase was his best friend—and had been ever since they'd bumped into each other when he was eight…but because in some deep, shadowed corner of his awareness, Ken knew that he was fundamentally attracted to Kase.

And maybe _not_ just Kase, as he'd tried to convince himself earlier on.

"Kimiko-chan?" Ken tried at a smile, aware that his discomfort was evident, "She's coming again?"

Kase nodded, the excitement twinkling in his eyes visible, "…Mae-chan's coming along, too," here he paused, studying the brunette momentarily, "…She really likes you."

There was a particular strain to his voice as he said it, but Ken dismissed it. He was a little irritated, to be honest, by Kase's constant quest to find him a girlfriend. At fourteen—and underdeveloped and clumsy, to boot—the last thing he needed to worry about was a girlfriend.

He didn't have the time for one, and—come to think of it—he probably couldn't _afford_ one, anyway. Mae-chan was nice enough, with dark, curling brown hair and a pretty pixie face. She was plain in that agreeable way, cute enough to be attractive without being intimating. Still, there was something about her fragility—about her innocence—that put him on edge.

He'd always had something of a dirty mouth to begin with—reality that Kase's influence hadn't done much to help—and whenever he was around Mae-chan, he felt particularly censored. She was sweet and polite, and it felt rude to be…_rude_…around her. But at the same time, it was all just _really_ obnoxious.

Especially since he was taking those precautions around someone he didn't even really _like_.

If he'd been attracted to Mae-chan, then maybe the sacrificing of his sailor-like tendencies would've been something he could deal with, but as it was, it was a struggle to even smile and nod politely as she tried to engage him in casual conversation.

Ken had always been more the boisterous type, the kind that preferred a good fist-fight over an intellectual battle, and—though Amamiya-san had tried to steer him towards a less confrontational outlook—he still thrived on the _physical_. That's why his connection with Kase was so strong, he supposed…because the two were fundamentally linked by their perverse need for touch.

Amamiya-san would confront him quietly about it in the future, insinuating that his own need to be wanted and reassured stemmed from deeper, repressed feelings of abandonment—ones that Kase, she suggested, knew how to exploit. But those discussions would come in the future, when their relationship would change—when he was old enough to do as he pleased, even when the elderly woman begged him otherwise.

And, who knew, maybe she had seen that manipulative nature in Kase from the very beginning. Maybe she'd been aware of how devoted he was to him—of how _dazzled_ he was by him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chiba, at the soccer-pitch<br>**__Sixteen and increasingly stupid_

They were sprawled out on the pitch after practice.

"You had sex with her?"

Kase nodded nonchalantly, sparing him something of a glance as he bit into an apple, "…last night."

Ken hesitated, unsure of what to ask, exactly—or how to react. He supposed Kase wouldn't have mentioned it if he hadn't wanted to talk about it—gloat or complain, or whatever. It's just that he was a little mystified by it all.

Amamiya-san still had something of a moral hold on him, adamant in instilling in him the values of morality and spirituality, and Ken very clearly remembered some very _clear_ and _binding_ clause forbidding sex.

…Which was probably why he was staring wide-eyed at Kase, chocolate brown eyes curious despite his convictions otherwise, worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

"How was it?" He tried to relax as he asked, tipping his blue-tinged water-bottle to his lips, grimacing a little at the metallic twang of cheap, fountain water. He glanced surreptiously at Kase's Evian.

The youth at his side shrugged, seemingly speculating, chewing in thought for a few moments before answering. There was a guarded look in his hazel eyes as he spoke, staring at Ken uncertainly, "Messy. Gross. Really good," he paused, then added as an afterthought, "…really _really_ good."

Somehow, though he'd never been all that good at algebra, Ken wondered how 'messy' and 'gross' could ever equal 'really good.'

"Yeah?" He chuckled a little despite himself, feeling the despair that prickled at his chest and ignoring it, "…Mae-chan wanted to try it, too."

Damn Kase for making him date her.

The teen beside him brightened, "Yeah?" Kase slung an arm about his shoulders, bringing him into a loose hug, "…you got any questions, just ask, okay?"

Ken nodded, feeling his cheeks burn.

It was dark enough that Kase couldn't see, but he was still aware enough of it as it was.

It had already been two years of trying to ignore it.

* * *

><p><strong>Outside of Tokyo, Kimiko's house<br>**_Sixteen + Alcohol_

He'd never been the type for parties.

Maybe it had something to do with the way he always felt awkward in his out-of-style clothes and used, scruffy shoes.

Though he usually didn't care for those types of distinctions—he was grateful enough for all the things he _did_ have, as Amamiya often reminded him—being _here_, at Kimiko's house, with Kase and the rest of the soccer team…it was hard for him to miss that he was the only one that wasn't decked out in brand-name clothing. And, while that normally didn't bother him, he couldn't help the slight twinge of insufficiency when Kase glanced at him peculiarly from the corner of his eye, his mouth drawn into a frown at his apparent lack of effort in dressing for the occasion.

It had been another championship match—they'd won, presumably because Ken had given up mid-fielder for goalie—and the entire team had decided to go out for dinner and a party. He had skipped on the dinner, well aware that _Chez Marcheline_ was not in his budget, but had made it to the after-party at Kimiko's house.

He had made the mistake of assuming people would _change_ in between the two events.

He pulled inordinately at his blue tee, making his way swiftly toward the kitchen. He was intent on avoiding Kase, a little irritated at himself for feeling inadequate, and he was partially keen on getting wasted. It wasn't his style, but his style be _damned_.

At least Mae-chan wasn't around. He wasn't sure he could stomach his usual polite façade. He glanced at his digital watch with a frown. He wondered if Amamiya would be up, waiting for him.

"Ken?"

Ken turned at the call of his name, chocolate eyes flickering curiously about as he brought a cup to his lips. The scent of the alcohol was strong, and he wrinkled his nose for a moment before taking a hearty gulp. He caught Mimasaka-san's gaze.

She smiled at him, touching briefly at his elbow when she approached.

"Careful," she cautioned, her voice light and airy in a way that Mae-chan's would never be, "…you shouldn't drink like that on your first try."

How she knew he'd never drank before, he didn't know.

She smiled at him again, pursing her lips admonishingly, before standing on tip-toes and chancing a drink at his cup. "Hmm." There was a shy little grin on her face when she pulled away, licking at her lips slowly as she turned her eyes on his intently. "Thanks."

He nodded mechanically, taking in the way her eyes glittered when she looked at him, her brown eyes seeming brighter and more alive than he ever remembered them being. She cocked her head to the side and smiled again, looking away briefly as she gestured around, "We missed you at dinner."

So they'd noticed he'd been gone.

She chuckled a little at his expression, absently twirling a strand of perfectly curled wheat-blond hair between her manicured fingers. Her roots were black. "The party was for _you_, you know." She came closer as she said so, touching him as softly and as tentatively as one does a cornered animal, and smiled when his cheeks flooded with warmth.

Her fingers were soft and cool at his shoulders, and she had somehow managed to maneuver herself so that his arms were very loosely gathered about her middle, his cup still held weakly in his left hand. He was aware of a very dull pulsing at his temple that was almost immediately superceded by a slow coiling burning low in his gut. He watched her, entranced, as she licked at her lips before closing her eyes and rising on her tip-toes once again to press a soft, unobtrusive kiss at the corner of his mouth.

He exhaled sharply the minute her mouth touched his, dumbly feeling behind him for a table and pressing his drink clumsily onto it when he found it. His arms came about her then, tight about her small waist, and he could feel the slight curve of her lips as she smiled against him. Her hands came up to his hair, tangling briefly in soft chocolate before moving slowly to rest at his cheeks.

He was surprised at first, his height registering only slowly, and he bent a little once he realized how much smaller she was. It had never really sunk in, just how tall he'd gotten. Kase was still so much taller, after all.

She pulled away first, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a pleased little smirk. "Wanna dance?"

And her hand was already smooth and tight in his, anyway.

He nodded, feeling that burning in his abdomen begin anew, and followed her towards the dancefloor, surprised to meet curious hazel upon looking up. Kase smiled tentatively at him, even as his arm tightened possessively about Kimiko, and he dipped his head in approval before turning back to his girlfriend, capturing her mouth in a distinctly intimate way.

"You guys are close," Mimasaka-san looked away at his glance, her eyes trained shyly on his collar-bone.

"Yeah." His tone didn't feel sincere, somehow. "It's a weird sort of close," he admitted.

Mimasaka-san nodded, pressing herself a little tighter to him, "Sometimes, I can't decide if he's jealous of you…or jealous _for_ you."

It sounded like the same thing to him. He tried to ignore the implications of what she was suggesting, well-aware of them himself.

She shrugged a little when he remained quiet, her earlier bravado waning.

Ken shifted her in his arms, ducking his head so he could kiss her pretty little mouth again. She tasted like strawberries, he decided, sighing almost forlornly when she pulled away. Strawberries and cream.

She laughed nervously, blinking her eyes up to his, an attractive flush dancing across her cheeks, "…You're so forward."

It was an odd thing to say, since she'd been the one to kiss _him_ first.

She caught his expression and tried to correct herself, "…Passionate, maybe?"

His lips quirked a little. He felt her relax in his arms at that, pressing close to him again, her cheek tight against his chest. It felt good having her so close—tucked in safely into him, her arms just barely able to make it around his body. And there was that phantom stirring again.

He shifted uncomfortably, biting at his lip even as he looked around. His eyes met Kase's again, and his expression was different that time—tense, strained. Kimiko was still at his side, but she frowning petulantly, her kisses at his neck seemingly futile in light of whatever discussion they'd only just had.

Ken tried at a smile, his lips feeling hot and _weird_ from his kiss, and he licked at them inadvertedly, feeling his blush at the _newness_ of it all. He expected another nod from Kase—another reassurance—but there was nothing the older teen offered except for a mild frown and a sigh.

* * *

><p>"What about Mae-chan?"<p>

Kase was being almost too sensitive about it.

Ken shrugged a little, dribbling the ball expertly as he feigned left and right, trying to get past Kase. "What about her? It's not like we ever really had a relationship."

He missed Kase's frown.

"Besides," Ken grinned triumphantly once he made it past him, "…Mimasaka-san's really nice."

Kase glared.

Ken found himself frowning, scratching a bit defensively at his nape, "What the hell does it matter, anyway?"

"It matters."

The brunette shrugged, stepping away and resuming his drill.

"It matters, Ken."

"I don't see why," he paused and stared Kase straight in the eye, displeased by the resistance he was encountering. He hadn't made such a big deal when Kase had proudly presented Kimiko. And Kase had been _adamant_ about his liking her. About how he _had_ to like her, because _she_ was his _best-friend's_ girl-friend. "I like her a lot better than Mae-chan. I can be myself around her."

_And she's really good._

He didn't say the last bit out loud, but he could sense from Kase's sudden tightening that the unsaid had been obvious.

Ken rolled his eyes, "…It's not like we've done anything like _that_," he muttered, annoyed and mortified that he felt the need to explain his particulars to Kase, "I mean, I _want_ to and all…but—"

He had trailed off, surprised by the sudden mixture of emotions in Kase's eyes, and caught entirely off-guard by the fist that caught him square in the jaw. He saw stars for a moment, his vision crowding black, before his senses—and his temper—returned with a flash of fury.

He swiped at Kase, missing and taking one to the gut instead, and found himself rolling with the teen, punching and kicking and bucking, and _trying_ to get a good hit in. He could already feel his cheek bruising, and he could only imagine what Amamiya-san would say, but at the moment, all he wanted was to beat Kase's head into the ground for being such an arrogant, stubborn, hypocritical—

"Ow!" Kase broke away suddenly, clutching at his shin and glaring at him venomously.

Ken glared right back from where he sat, wincing when he tongued at the cut at the corner of his mouth. He felt tentatively at his eye. It was swelling already, and his vision danced peculiarly when he touched at it, but he'd survive.

"I can't move my ankle." Kase's voice was plaintive, though his expression was anything but.

For a moment, Ken wasn't sure if he should believe him or not. He was about to answer, temper building up again, when his phone rang.

"Mimasaka-san," he _really_ couldn't help the smile that came to his lips, "…yeah. Not tonight, I can't. I promised Amamiya-san that I'd help out with the kids. Yeah. That sounds good."

He glanced back to Kase as he spoke, watching the man watch him, and felt a dull weight gather at the pit of his stomach when he saw the gloom in his expression. He was still clutching at his shin, his face tight with pain, but there was something else there—a deeper, more sinister sort of agony.

He knew that pain. He'd seen it tons of times mirrored on his own, haunted face.

It hurt him, somehow.

And he frowned, his breath hitching painfully, even as Mimasaka-san told him she loved him.

Sometimes, it was hard keeping up with Kase.

* * *

><p><strong>Kase's Apartment<br>**_Seventeen_

Kase had been studying him strangely for the past few weeks.

Maybe it had something to do with his rapidly approaching birthday, or the fact that they'd both been drafted into the J-League…or maybe it was just that Kimiko had dumped him.

"Ken."

And his voice was faint, _weary._ He rubbed at his face tiredly as he spoke, groaning with some thought or other.

"Yeah?" Ken glanced up from his books, putting down his highlighter. "What's up?"

He was sprawled near decadently on the floor of Kase's apartment—camped out—a bag of Cheetos and a box of Cokes at his side. It was finals week, and he didn't want to disappoint Amamiya-san.

"Why don't you live here?"

He raised a fine, chocolate brow, chewing at the tip of his pen, "…because I live at the orphanage."

"But, I mean…what's the point?" Kase was draped over a loveseat, his head propped on the arm-rest, his arm slung over his eyes. His voice was careful as he continued, "…it's not like anyone's gonna _adopt_ you or anything."

That much was true. He had gotten too old for adoption.

He shrugged a little, "Amamiya-san would be sad."

Kase heaved an annoyed sigh, sitting up with a glare, "…she's not your mother."

"Yes she is." Ken was matter-of-fact.

"Ken—" he was whining now, _pleading_.

The brunette quirked something of a confused brow, "…why do you want me to move in, anyway?"

"…Because. It'll be easier. I wouldn't have to pick you up every morning."

Ken pursed his lips. "I told you I can walk."

Kase sighed again, this time more dramatically, "No."

"Besides, if I move, I'll be farther from Mimasaka-san."

Silence greeted his observation, which—no doubt—Kase was already well aware of. He hesitated, unsure of how to proceed without offending him, and shrugged, "…I can't move out until I'm eighteen, anyway."

"You mean they'll kick you out when you're eighteen."

"That's a way of putting it."

Ken smiled a little, imagining the tearful Amamiya-san bidding him to visit daily. She really was his mother—in all the ways that mattered.

Kase sat up straighter, focusing all his energies on him, "…So…what do you say?"

His eyes were dancing in anticipation, cheeks flushed at the possibilities, and he all but rejoiced when Ken offered a feeble nod.

"We can be roommates!"

He nodded, feeling that knot tangle tighter in his gut.

He'd been trying to ignore it—for Mimasaka-san's sake, for his _own_ sake—but Kase's pull was strangely intoxicating. He knew it…and he knew what would happen when they moved in together—but even then he acquiesced.

* * *

><p><strong>Kase's Apartment<br>**_Eighteen_

Amamiya-san hadn't been pleased. She hadn't been pleased at _all_. She had shouted and gestured wildly, and then _begged_ him not to. She had been adamant about her opinion—about her dislike for Kase, about the way he _manipulated_ people to his liking.

It had been hard, not to be defensive for Kase's sake—most especially knowing what had glittered faintly in Kase's eyes when he'd asked him to move in, the hidden promise that twinkled in those depths—but he'd done it. He had pleaded with Amamiya-san, tried to make her see _his_ reasoning, reminded her that he and Kase had been friends _all-along_, but all to little avail.

She had drawn her lips tight, her round cheeks pink from her anger, and stiffly bid him to leave.

There had been no tears, no requests for him to return.

He had been depressed about it for a while, finding his solace in soccer and _Kase_, and had only just begun to terms with it—with everything—when Kase threw him a curveball.

The man wasn't the type for surprises. He didn't like them, generally didn't bestow them, and if he did, there was always the general caution that he wasn't responsible for your reaction. In fact, Kase made a point of _not_ being surprised. Ever. He even went so far as to _plot_, so that he could _never_ be surprised.

That being so, he was significantly startled when he found himself confronted by two large, burly men at Kase's front door. Though they nodded amicably at him, managing attempts at smiles, even, Ken didn't miss the smattering of tattoos on their necks and arms, nor was he unaware of their lingering scent of smoke and alcohol. He apologized when they made to walk in after him, stammering that Kase was out at the pitch—should he even have told them _that_—and they smiled almost condescendingly at his attempt to keep them out, telling him that they'd wait for 'Koichiro' inside.

He'd almost forgotten that was Kase's name.

He had nodded uncertainly, still a little spooked, his hands still clutching at his single suitcase and duffle-bag—enough to house the few belonging he'd gathered at the orphanage over the years—and he had deposited them unceremoniously in the kitchen. The two men had taken up residence in the living room, seemingly out of place and almost comedic in their size and appearance.

Ken hadn't known what to do at first, gnawing on his lower lip with a fury that left them bruised and cracked, and he was just about ready to excuse himself—to go _anywhere_—when the lock turned. "Ken? Are you in here?"

Kase's voice was cheerful—bright and energetic.

"I brought some beer to celebrate."

Ken could sense his smile, and he watched it fade away as the tall youth took in the sight of the two men sitting in his living room, glancing at him appreciatively. He frowned, shoving his keys back in his pocket, and nodded reassuringly at Ken before turning his attention back to the men. "May I help you?" His tone was hardly hospitable.

The larger of the two men held out a note, which Kase took, before gesturing toward Ken with a subtle flick of the wrist. Kase shook his head minutely even as he scanned the note, and a frown drew his brows together, creasing his forehead with worry lines. "He wants the shipment in _tomorrow_? We accorded it'd be done next week." His voice was a whisper.

"The directions were clear." Sharp, crisp—to the point.

Kase exhaled noisily, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, "…I can ask around, but I don't think there's anything in yet," his gaze flickered toward Ken, "…can we discuss this elsewhere?"

The larger man nodded again, studying Ken momentarily, his gaze lingering inappropriately before Kase cleared his throat, his expression clearly possessive. "Leave him alone."

The man quirked a brow at the request, seemingly amused by some earlier discussion, before shrugging, "…for now, at least."

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? Opinions? Feedback? <strong>


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